


All That Is Left Unsaid

by audreyslove



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-10
Updated: 2018-08-12
Packaged: 2019-06-24 17:21:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15635241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/audreyslove/pseuds/audreyslove
Summary: For #OQAngstFest2, 11, 15, 12





	1. Chapter 1

Regina hates birthdays. There’s nothing exciting about being another year older, and she doesn’t understand why any adult over the age of twenty-one insists on celebrating it.  It’s ridiculous, an excuse to indulge in sickenly sweet treats and saccharine laced well-wishes that are entirely too insincere. And then there’s the questions about how it _feels_ to be another year older, about what she is planning to _do_ for her Big Day, about her favorite _present._  And she knows Mary Margaret, the cheery art teacher and head of the party-planning committee, is going to be asking all those questions in short order, immediately after singing her happy birthday and shoving a cake covered in far too many candles at her.

That’s why she’s avoiding social media today.  And the teacher’s lounge. And the cafeteria. She’s spending her free periods in her classroom, thank you very much.  Catching up on grading.

Avoiding the inevitable.

Because if she doesn’t show up in the breakroom soon, Mary Margaret will come and find her and drag her in there herself.

It’s still surprising when she hears the faint knock at her door.  

“It’s too early for cake, Miss Blanchard,” Regina groans. “Leave me alone.”

The door opens, and it’s not Mary Margaret at all.

It’s Robin.  She's sure Mary Margaret let him in, knowing he was here to cheer her up. And that might be even worse.

“Good thing I brought cupcakes, and it’s never too early for them!” Robin smirks proudly.  He’s holding two large cups of coffee and a pastry box, obviously struggling to hold all three and open the door.  It’s cute, actually, annoyingly so.

“Robin,” she tosses her head back in annoyance.  “You promised you wouldn’t this year.”

“Did I?” Robin asks, setting down the cups of coffee on a child’s desk.  “I just dropped these off for Roland’s birthday and happened to have a few spare cupcakes, I figured I’d take a walk next door and give them to the birthday girl.”

Right.  The Roland excuse.

Ordinarily she wouldn’t mind sharing a birthday with her friend’s child.  Especially the child of her _best_ friend. She may hate _adult_ birthdays but she quite likes celebrating Roland’s special day.  But the thing is, Robin is always using Roland’s birthday as an excuse to celebrate _her_ birthday.  Always sneaking in a second cake or another chorus of happy birthdays just for her.

And she hates it.  Or maybe she likes it a little _too_ much.  Either way, it is unsettling.

“I cannot believe you walked over from the elementary school carrying all that,” Regina mutters, trying to hide a smile.  Robin just shrugs.

“I didn’t want them to go to waste.”

She appreciates Robin even more than she did back when they were younger.  Since she moved back home at twenty-six years old, a year old child in tow, facing a sea of judgmental eyes and whispers inquiring as to the reasoning for choosing the single parent lifestyle. Robin had been the only one who didn’t judge, didn’t ask if she thought everything out before adopting Henry alone, didn't say anything except congratulations.  And then he helped her find a job immediately.

There could have been something there, she thinks, back then.  It seemed like something was evolving as he helped her for those first six weeks— hell he practically moved in to the little town home she rented, helping put together furniture and settling Henry in his new home.  There were late nights that bled into early mornings, where she felt like she was drunk off of his company, off of tender touches and soft compliments. She had never _really_ gotten that way about anyone.  But she never got to tell him that, because then Marian announced her pregnancy, and just like that, he was back together with his on-again, off-again ex, and Regina reverted to what she was always meant to be, his friend.

And she really doesn’t want to go down that path again, she just wants to remain friends.

But now that she’s caught feelings for him, it seems they’ve taken root, like a stubborn infection, never really entirely leaving her system.  

He’s looking at her with all-too-eager eyes, urging her to look at his birthday treat, and she finds she can’t resist him.  

She peers inside the open pastry box and isn’t surprised at all by what she finds.

“You bought red velvet cupcakes for _six year olds_?”

“Mm, five and six year olds, yes.  And surprisingly the red velvets were not too popular.  I bought an assortment and there were plenty of vanilla and chocolate ones that went quite easily, leaving these poor red velvets all uneaten.  Luckily I do know someone who loves them, though.”

“From Granny’s,” Regina realizes.  Her favorite bakery. Fuck him for being so thoughtful.

“Coffee from The Three Bears,” Robin adds, holding a cup to her.

“And Roland’s little friends enjoy coffee do they?” She smirks, holding out her hand as Robin passes her the coffee.  

“No, that was me doing something nice for you against your wishes,” Robin admits.  His voice goes low and sweet when he whispers, “Happy birthday, Regina.”

“You can’t keep doing this,” she says back, instantly regretting it.  

“Can’t keep doing something special for my best friend on her birthday?” he asks innocently, as if he hasn’t sensed the tension between them, the tension that’s always been between them, really.  Marian had noticed it, had been terribly jealous of his relationship with her. And then Daniel, all those years ago, was always making comments about how _close_ they were.

But Robin has always seemed oblivious of her feelings, of the connection she feels, so she swallows her words.

“You have to give up on trying to get me to enjoy my birthday,” she opts for.  “And I love the cupcakes, but I wish you had brought them to me on a random day, not on my birthday. Mary Margaret is going to jam a piece of cake down my throat later, anyway.”

His mouth opens in a silent “oh”, his eyes twinkling devilishly.   “I guess you’ll just be eating a lot of sugary sweets today. I wish I had known you were already getting a sugar fix.”

“You knew, and you did it anyway,” Regina argues playfully. “Now I’m going to be hyped up on sugar all day.

He shakes his head.  “I’m not forcing you to eat them.”

“Yeah...” she says, grabbing a cupcake.  “But you _know_ I can’t resist these things if they are in front of me.” She takes a bite and savors it, creamy, tangy frosting and bitter chocolate cake blending together into the perfect tasting cupcake that exists on Earth, she’s sure of it.

“God that’s good,” she moans.  “Thank you for not putting a candle on one.  I hate that.”

“I know,” Robin reminds.  “I was there for your thirteenth birthday when you took a big bite of melted wax.”

Regina shudders.  “Got in my braces and everything. I _hated_ that.”

“You were cute,” he says, as if he remembers it still, twenty years later.

She fights smiling at that, but her mouth turns up on its own volition.  

“I was a mess back then,” she mutters.  “My awkward years were _very_ awkward.”

“I think you misremember. You’ve always been pretty adorable.”

She rolls her eyes.  He has to say that. Because he’s her friend, and he’s always been just a little bit blind when it comes to her faults.   

“Thank you for the coffee,” she holds it, does a mock toast in his honor.  “And the cupcakes. But take away the rest of them before I eat them all.”

“Nah,” Robin smirks.  “I’m going to keep them right here so you can snack on the other five throughout the day.”

“No!” she exclaims as he turns to walk away.  “Robin I’m going to be forced to eat Mary Margaret’s cake too, so you have to take them!”

She grabs the pastry box and shoves them in his direction, but he just laughs, holding his hands up and refusing to take it.

For a moment she forgets she’s thirty-fucking-three, and it’s just her and Robin, horsing around like old times.

“I mean it, Robin!  These cupcakes can _not_ sit here, and I can’t drop them off at the teacher’s lounge or they will give me _more_ cake!  Take them back!”

“Make me!” Robin says, and she’s chasing him, about ready to throw the damn cupcakes at him, stuff one in his face even.

There’s a bit of a struggle as they laugh, until she pins him against the far wall and grabs his hand.  God, she’s glad she has one of the few classrooms without a window facing into the hallway. Just that little window in the door she’s covered with a sign that says:

_Government_

_Ms. Mills_

_Room 105_

And thank god for that sign because she’s be mortified if anyone — teacher or student— came by and saw her behaving like this now.  And yet, she finds she can’t stop.

“You are going to take these cupcakes—“

“No, I’m not!” Robin laughs, twisting his wrists and freeing her grasp.

And then she hears a _SPLAT_ and Robin winces _._

His coffee cup was on the nearby desk, and their antics have just spilled it all over the classroom.

“Oh, _shit!”_ Regina mutters, “Now I have to clean this up.”

“It’s my fault; I’ll get it,” Robin insists, following her out of the classroom.  “Seriously, Regina, just point me to the cleaning supplies and I’ll handle it. It’s your birthday.”

“Oh, I’m just to blame as you,” Regina sighs, fishing for her keys.  “Sometimes working in a high school makes me act like I _am_ in high school.”

Truly - flirting and falling all over herself, getting clumsy and giggly in front of a boy.

Really, so very high school.  

The custodial closet is right across the hallway, and while she fiddles with the keys, Robin is behind her.  

She can feel his breath on her neck, his hands lightly rubbing up and down her back.

God she’s _never_ going to find the key with him distracting her like this.

She does find it, her face hot and thoroughly embarrassed by the time she does.  

“Jesus,” Robin says looking in the dated supply closet.  The walls are chipped and bare, the door is this old metal thing that creaks something awful.  “How old is this school?”

“Ancient,” Regina giggles.  “Half the classrooms have leaks.  We need a new roof. And some new textbooks.  And don’t get me started on the mold we aren’t supposed to talk about.”

“Well I’m very glad our sons will soon attend here instead of our alma mater,” Robin teases, and Regina laughs.  

“God, we were lucky. We should probably try to move into that school district before the boys get here.”

“Nah,” Robin says lightly.  “I want them to have the best political science teacher in the country.  They should stay put.”

“Shut up,” she says, tapping him lightly.

“Make me,” he whispers, inching closer to her.

His hands anchor on either side of her waist, and he walks her back against the door frame, that playful smirk on his face she is dying to kiss away.

He really shouldn’t be this cute.

“I don’t know what you are buttering me up for but it won’t work,” she whispers back.  She lifts her hands to push him away, but never quite manages. Instead she’s sort of… rubbing his chest.  God, he’s muscular. When does a single father find the time to work out?

Why is she always lusting over her best friend?

She can’t keep doing this forever — _they_ can’t keep doing this forever, being friendly and flirty as if there’s nothing more serious to worry about. Sooner or later she’s going to have to tell him how she feels or she might burst trying to keep all these feelings to herself.

She’s silently chastising herself when she’s hears the sound of footsteps and quiet words.

She’s not sure why she does it, some misplaced guilt, some hidden worry about a stranger able to read the scandalous thoughts in her mind, some unspoken understanding that what is between them is _wrong_ … whatever the reason, Regina is pushing him into that disgusting janitorial closet and shutting the door.

Robin catches on quickly, doesn’t make a sound, but look at her curiously, mouthing a silent, “What?”

Regina can’t begin to explain the reason right now.  How do you keep your poise while saying _So, I worry someone might catch on to how turned on I am right now and felt the need to hide?_  

So instead she puts a finger to her lips.  Bless Robin, he only silently nods.

The noise in the hallway interrupts their moment, as they both hear unfamiliar voices in the hallway.

“Check the empty classrooms first and lock them,” a sinister voice hisses.  “We managed to get all the entrances secured, but we need the windows.”

Robin and Regina look at one another, perplexed.  

Her nerves stand on end.  Something isn’t right.

“Classrooms with kids, we do the same thing?” asks another voice.  

“Yes.  We need all the hostages we can get. The more that’s at stake, the more they are willing to pay.  And if they don’t pay, we start killing,” snarls another voice.

Regina’s blood runs cold.  She looks at Robin in absolute disbelief.

He looks… determined.  As if he’s already processed this.  He holds a finger to his lips and then silently falls to the floor, his ear to the ground, fixated on the crack of light between the wall and the door.  He can see something, she realizes.

She kneels next to him and waits for him to report what he sees.  

He says nothing, until voices get more muffled, until she can’t hear what the gunmen are saying.

“Marking and locking the empty classrooms, I think,” Robin whispers, as footsteps tred away from their door.  “Saw them walk into yours, and out, and then… seemed like they locked it.”

“Fuck,” Regina whispers. “What are we—”

“AHHH!!!” A piercing young voice interrupts her idiotic question. Regina winces.  The voice screams again, “A gun! He’s got a gun, they have—”

But it’s over then, the voice is drowned out on a haze of crackling gunfire.

Regina hears a sickening splat, and then, she hears what she had hoped she wouldn’t.

Doors swinging open.  Footsteps pressing hard against linoleum.  Several screams and gasps.

“EVERYONE STOP!” cries that same sinister voice from before.  “Go back to your classrooms or we—”

Gunfire again.  People are screaming and crying, there’s yelling, arguing, and it’s terrifying, she hears bodies dropping, falling, just right outside her door and she can’t do anything.  

“EVERYONE KNEEL DOWN, HANDS ON THE FLOOR!!” a voice screams.  

But it’s chaos.  There’s more fire.  “I SAID HANDS ON THE FLOOR!” the voice yells.  

“We have to help them!” Regina whispers.  She’s already got a hand on the supply closet door handle.  “There’s got to be a way to—”

“We can’t now,” Robin warns, “They will shoot us in a second.  We have to wait.” He’s on his phone — smart move — she’s sure he is sending a message to 911.

“Those are _children,”_  Regina cries, sobbing into his neck.  “They are practically babies, Robin, some are barely fourteen.”

Robin wraps his arms tightly around her.  “I know, I know. And I want to save as many as we can.  But we need a plan, okay? We need to think this through.  Otherwise we will end up dead and won’t help anyone.”

He lets her sniffle at every gun shot, every scream, every barked order to _Follow_ and _Be Quiet_  and _Stop crying._ They listen until the noise dies out, until she can regain her composure, somewhat. Only a minute or two, but god it felt like hours.

Robin ruffles around the janitorial closet, gathering items and putting them in Leroy’s toolbox, quickly, and then he ducks down to check underneath the door again.

“I think they’re gone.  For now. We need to act fast.  Do you have your keys?” Regina nods, holding her breath tight as she hands over the keys without so much as a sound.

“Which is the key to your classroom?” Robin asks.  She fumbles until she finds her classroom key and hands it to him with a slight nod.  

“It sticks a bit,” she says like she has so many times before when she hands her keys over to a new person.

But she doesn’t need to tell Robin Locksley how to get into a room, anyway.  The man could pick any lock, he always had a skill for finding a way into places that are closed off.

Robin opens the supply closet a smidge, she imagines he’s checking to see if it’s safe, and then he’s pushing her out the door, holding the toolbox in his other hand.

“Don’t look down,” he directs.  “Just keep going.”

But she does look down, she does see the body of a fallen student in that hallway.  

And another.  

And another.

“Robin….”  She can’t think of what to say.  It’s shock setting in, she knows it is.  She can barely move.

“I know, I know, darling.”  He sounds so calm, so understanding.  How is he always able to keep it together so well?

She can barely move so she's glad he's able to unlock the door easily.  He nearly has to fling her inside. 

It’s only then that she lets out a breath of air she didn’t know she was holding in.  

“So…” she asks, fixated on the large windows of the classroom.  Such a beautiful, bright sunny morning. “Now what?”  



	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For #OQAngstFest  
> 47, 5, 20, 25, 45, 24

 

Robin busies himself checking the windows in case an escape is needed.  Regina is peering underneath the door, listening and watching.  If the shooters come back, they may need to escape.  

But really only one person is on her mind now.

“The elementary school,” Regina whispers to Robin, unable to hold back her worry, “Henry and Roland are right next door, we need to make sure they are okay.”

She rushes to her phone — she didn’t have it in the supply closet, but it’s here in her desk drawer thank god.

She dials the elementary school without a second thought.  It rings, and rings.

No one answers, and she starts to panic until Robin soothes her. 

“We have no reason to believe they went after a completely separate building, Regina.  And the elementary school is safer. It’s a newer building. It locks up real tight. They are safe.”

Regina nods, but there’s something that tells her Henry is not okay, that he needs her.  She can’t describe what it is, but…

“I need you to stay here,” Robin directs.  “I’m going to try to move some wounded kids into this room.  I can only do it while the shooters are preoccupied. I need you to stay here, and I need you to promise if you hear them come back you will lock the door and stay silent.  That you won’t come out trying to save me, or any one.”

The phone is still ringing.

“I can help you,” she offers.  “If those kids are alive, I can’t just sit here and—”

“You can.  Henry needs you.  He’s waiting for you safe and sound.  Please don’t leave.”

Something doesn’t _feel_ right though.  But she can’t argue with Robin, and she’s trying to reach the elementary school.  So she nods dumbly and watches Robin walk out the door, her breath catching when she realizes this might be the last time she sees him.

“Robin!” He turns, and she grabs his hand and squeezes it tightly.  “Be careful. I…”

She can’t say the words she wants to.  They stick in her throat, frozen in panic and too much emotion.

“I will, I promise.” He flashes her a quick smile, but it does nothing to lighten the gravity of the situation that weighs on both of them.

At least he’s trying.

“Lock the door,” he whispers.

She should, but she doesn’t, instead she peels back the paper she had put over the little window on the door and watches as Robin tends to the children.  It doesn’t take more than a minute. She shoots a text to Henry and then Robin is back.

One student is walking normally along his side, a girl with sleek black hair that’s oddly never out of place, wearing a green cable knit sweater.  She recognizes the outfit, the way she walks with purpose, even without seeing her face, she knows. It’s Sophie Cranston. Robin is carrying the second child in his arms.  A boy, it looks like, baggy jeans and a white long sleeve tee with a black one over it. She’s not sure who it is.

As soon as he gets near the door, Regina opens it and ushers them inside.

“You were supposed to lock the door!” he hisses, dropping the boy on the ground.  

“Ms. Mills!” Sophie Cranston wraps her arms around her and hugs her tight, sobbing into her neck.

Sophie was never her favorite student (not her least favorite either, but Sophie is opinionated and driven, and leaned towards hard sciences over history and social studies), and Regina is not a warm, touchy-feely type of teacher.  But in this moment, she finds she has the same need Sophie does to hug and hold one another. “Shh,” Regina whispers, stroking her back, “We have to be quiet.”

She looks down to Sophie’s hands, to her jeans splotched in a reddish brown substance.

“Sophie, is that… blood?”

If she’s injured, they need to try to treat it.  She has… bandaids and hydrogen peroxide in her desk.  Some vaccine and neosporin. Maybe some gauze.

Fuck, she should update her first aid kit.

“Not mine.  Brian’s. I just pretended I was shot too when Brian” — a choked sob — “when he fell down on top of me, I didn’t know what to do, I just.  He protected me. He’s _hurt bad._  I thought I could help if… I took first aid, I... _”_

“It’s okay, Sophie,” Regina soothes.  “You were brave. Do you have your phone on you?” Sophie sniffles out a _yes_ and Regina whispers, “Text your mom.  Tell her you are okay. She will want to hear from you..  But don’t call, because we need to be quiet okay?”

She’s never seen Sophie anything but calm and under control, completely together.  Even now, mid-crisis, she’s wearing a perfectly fitted shirt that matches the green in her eyes, her hair framing her face perfectly, cherry red lip gloss shining brightly.

Sophie takes only a second to dry her wet eyes, to breathe, to resume the stance of confidence Regina has always known Sophie to take.

“Good idea,” she whispers, and then she’s off with her phone.

Regina sits down next to Robin.  Brian doesn’t appear to be responsive.

“Shot in the gut.  We need an ambulance.” He presses over the wound with one of the clean cloths from the supply room.  “Going to try to get a few others but…”

He doesn’t finish.  Regina knows.

Some of those students are likely too badly injured to move.

“I heard them say they were going to lock everyone in the assembly room,” Sophie whispers her text conversation with her mother obviously caught short in favor of action.  Her free hand goes to apply pressure to Brian’s wound while the other holds a phone to her ear. “I’d like to report a shooting,” she whispers into the phone. “It’s Southwest High School, it’s— you know? Okay…”

Regina isn’t surprised to see the girl being so logical now.  Sophie is a driven girl. Attentive, best under pressure. Maybe one of the best children to have in these situations, but still just a child.

Only a child.  

She hears Sophie talking to the police again. “I know they said the exits are all _secure,_ then they split up, some to the upper level, the rest to the gymnasium, to…”

Regina’s face goes white.

She knows before she even looks at the clock.

She remembers packing Henry his gym shorts and tee shirt that morning as he grumbled that it was _ping pong_ week at gym class and they shouldn’t even need to change.

But he was excited for school that day like he always is when he gets to go to the high school with the big kids.

“Henry, god, Henry—”

“Henry’s in gym class,” Regina stutters.  “Shit, Robin, we have to help him!”

“The elementary school is safe,” Robin soothes, as if he can say for sure. But he doesn’t understand.

“You idiot!” she hisses, “Their gym flooded last week, remember?  They are using the…” Tears flow as she panics and walks to the door.

Because the elementary school is using the old high school gymnasium for gym class.  The one in the basement of this very building.

Right where shooters are going.

Fourteen year old children getting shot at is hard enough, but eight and nine year olds, including her baby boy?  That’s too much for her to handle.

Robin’s eyes nearly pop out of his head. He grabs her, holding her tight.  “I don’t hear any more gun shots, Regina. It’s a hostage situation, they didn’t _want_ to shoot anyone,” he whispers.  “Stay here, I’m going to get him and the rest of them, okay?  The little ones — I’ll go get them. I’m going there now, I promise.”

“I’m coming,” she sobs, but Robin shakes his head.

“You have to _stay._  There are children who need you, and the police are coming.  You need to be there for them. You need to help these students get out.”

“I need to find _my son!”_ she argues in loud whisper.

“Regina please!” he rasps back.  “I can’t lose you.”

“I can’t lose you either!” she argues as she stares daggers back at him.  “You _or_ Henry.  It’s not a life worth living without you two, so let me—“

“Are you even listening to me?” Robin whispers angrily, pulling her away from Sophie and Brian.  “I am going to get Henry, look at me. I’m saving Henry, and I’m not going anywhere, okay?  I’ll be right back. You need to stay here. I’ll send any kids I see here. Lock the door when I leave.  Look under the door for combat boots - don’t risk peering through the window, we don’t want them to know you guys are here.  If they come shooting at the door, or trying to get in, break a window.” He walks towards Leroy’s toolkit. “If you can’t break a window, try to remove the window pane.  You remember how I taught you that summer? But if you need to, just smash it with that hammer. I don’t think the glass is very strong.”

Regina nods. “But if Henry—”

“I love you, Regina,” Robin whispers. “I love you, so much, I always have and I love Henry as if he’s my own, you know that, don’t you?”

She swallows and nods. Its too much to process but she _knows_ he loves Henry.  “Then stay and wait.  Have a little faith in me.”

He’s gone before she can argue, grabbing a few items and pocketing them -  two aerosol cans - one that juts out of his jeans almost comically, the other he’s holding in his hand, some rags, and a boxcutter shoved into other pockets.  Nothing she thinks will be too terribly useful against men with large weapons.

But she trusts him and she loves him, so she follows his request, and locks the door behind him as he leaves.  

.::.

He isn’t sure what he’s doing.  He certainly has no plan. But it’s Henry, and some mad men with a gun, and when the life of your child is at stake you don’t really take the time to plan out details.

Not that Henry is his son.  He’s not. He is, however, his best friend’s child.

And he’d be lying if he didn’t admit that he thinks of both of them as his, sometimes.  It’s all pretend, a fantasy that he’s been living since Regina came back to town, if he’s being honest.  It’s not really fair to Marian, given that they spent a year together while he was still in love with Regina.  He shouldn’t have been like that, he harbored a bit of guilt over it. Marian knew, she could sense it the whole time, accused him of having an affair, and oh how he tried to stop loving her.  But good god, who could ever stop loving Regina Mills? He wouldn’t even know how to try to stop.

Her son is no different.  Blessed with the same addictive quality that has you craving his time, attention, has you wanting to lay down everything you have for his happiness.  

And that’s never been more clear now.  He could never sit and wait, knowing Henry is in the hands of a gunman.  He’d gladly give up his life for him.

Marian, she’d try to take care of Roland, but she can’t do it, at least not alone.  It’s not her fault, the addiction is a disease her body can never quite kick, runs in her family, keeps rearing its ugly head as hard as she tries to stay sober.  So Regina will need to be the mother poor Marian can’t be. He hopes Regina knows that he’s wordlessly entrusted that care to her. He should have told her — thought to, but couldn’t.  She wouldn’t let him go alone if he even voiced the possibility he might die.

Regina probably would take on a parenting role for Roland, though, even without him saying anything.  She _gets_ him, understands him, it seems in almost every way.  He’s fairly certain she has no idea that he’s been in love with her for years.  She probably still doesn’t know, even though the threat of death finally gave him the courage to say it.  She probably thinks he loves her as a friend.

And that’s fine.  He does, after all.  As her friend but also so much more than that.

It hurts, sometimes, but he has it under control.  He can watch her get all dressed up for dates, helps her with outfits, even offers to watch Henry for her while she tries to get back out there.  They won’t ever be more than what they are. But what they are is enough on its own, best friends who live in the same neighborhood, two single parents who rely on one another and confide in one another.  It doesn’t matter if he doesn’t get to love her the way he craves, to share a bed with her. What they have is actually better than most sexual relationships anyway.

And he hopes whenever she finds a new partner their relationship doesn’t change too much.  

Assuming he makes it out of this alive.

The hallway is long with few places to hide, and Robin is pleasantly surprised there are no shooters wandering the halls yet.  The shooters are smart to force a big group into the auditorium. A large room, no windows, just one entrance and a fire exit easily barricaded.  It’s a strongly built concrete room, the one used for earthquake and tornado drills.

A perfect room to keep hostages.

He gets to the end of the hallway when he hears a radio.  He’s able to pop into a locker just in time. “Eddy’s negotiating with the police.  Telling them we will shoot the room full of kids if they come inside. Still waiting on Greg and Felix.”  Robin holds his breath as the man walks up the hallway towards Regina’s classroom. “Hallway door still bolted shut.  None of the teachers or admins decided to play hero,” he chuckles. “What do we do with the kids who…you know, the ones we had to shoot?  There’s a few on the ground here, fuck man… I know, I know, but if the cops find out we have casualties they will be less willing to play nice…”

Robin hadn’t noticed that the door on the opposite end of the hallway — the one that leads to the school entrance, the administration office and the teacher’s lounge — has been closed off.

Why do those doors even exist?  Fuck this old school.

The man in the hallway leaves, mumbling something about checking the fire entrances again.

And Robin pops out of the locker and makes a run for it as quietly and quickly as he can.

He passes a fallen student, who is leaning up against the side of the locker.  She looks gone, but he can tell, the way she’s gripping at her bloodied wound, she’s alive.

Robin bends down and she flinches.  “Can you make it to room 105?” he asks.  She nods, trembling as he helps her up. “Quickly,” he whispers.  

There are some other students hiding, some peer out from behind doors and lockers when they hear Robin speaking to the wounded girl.  He repeats the same thing. “Go, quickly, to room 105. Now that the coast is clear. It’s safe.”

“The shooter is that way!” whispers a young girl at Robin — “Don’t go!  I saw men with _machine_ guns headed downstairs.”

Well, not _machine guns,_ Robin thinks.  But it’s not the time to correct her on what type of deadly assault rifle they are carrying.

“There are children down there,” Robin says, trying to keep his voice calm.  “Get safe, now, we don’t have much time.”

He reaches the end of the hall and turns left, the opposite of the gunman.  

There’s not really anywhere to hide in the stairwell.  He steps as quietly as he can, checking at every corner, waiting to hear anyone.

It seems he has a stroke of luck, after all.  No one is there.

But he’s not quite lucky enough to find an empty gymnasium full of happy children.  

He can hear the first talking in the hallway, and Robin ducks behind a trophy case to see two men in the entrance to the gym.

“I’m telling you, there are little kids here,” one of the shooters says almost amused.  “They are going to be the prize. Tell them for every hour we don’t get our demands met, we are killing one off.  That will get them to listen.”

Robin winces.

There’s another shooter in the gym, barking orders at children and a gym teacher that Robin can’t exactly hear.

He can’t quite see much from this angle, but Henry must be there.  And the only entrance he can see is blocked by shooters.

His mind starts racing as he tries to think of something.

He’s never been to this gym before.  The one they use for sporting events — the one he suspects is used by high school gym students — is in a separate building, and it is beautiful.  A donation from some sports-obsessed alumni. Thanks for that, though a donation to fix their crumbling infrastructure and outdated security would have been better.  But who would have imagined something horrible would happen in _Storybrooke?_

He sees signs for the locker rooms and prays there’s another entrance to the gym from there.

He takes a breath and ducks into the room marked _Boys._

It’s incredibly silent, the floor littered with boys clothes and shoes.  Small sizes, small enough to make him shudder, picturing kids small enough to fit into these clothes staring down the barrel of a machine gun.  He keeps moving, slowly, just in case someone is here.

“Robin?” He hears a hissing whisper.

He knows that voice.  

“Henry!  I’m here to help you get out of here.” He spins around, but doesn’t see anyone.  

Until a door he had overlooked opens.

A door to a small boiler room.

Henry and five other boys are packed tightly inside, wearing gym clothes and looking so young, so innocent.

Robin lets out a breath of relief.

“Henry,” he whispers, rushing towards him.  The boy hugs him back tightly.

“They said they would kill whoever hid, but…” Henry whispers.  “I got scared, I didn’t want to go with them.”

“It’s okay, I’m getting you out now,” Robin whispers.

They are in the basement, there’s got to be a fire exit somewhere, or…

In the locker room there are several small basement windows up high.

Too small for an adult or teenager to fit through, but the perfect size for a child.

Robin looks through it and sees police sirens.  Thank god.

“Henry, listen, I need you and your friends to be brave.  I’m going to boost you up through that window. But I can’t go with you, you need to go alone.  I need you to run, run fast as soon as you get out, okay? Police are out there, they will help you.”

“What about my mom?” Henry asks, “What about _you_?”

“Your mum is helping people.  She’s safe.” Robin stands on the bench underneath the small windows, trying to be as quiet as he can as he opens the window panel.  It sticks, and he regrets not bringing that damned putty knife and boxcutter with him for a second, until he’s able to shimmy it open.  Thank god.

He grabs a small white undershirt and waves it through the window.  Then waits until it catches the eye of an officer.

They don’t have long, but luckily his motion catches on quick.  

Eyes are on them, police can protect them.

“Okay, who is first?”

A kid by the name of Emerson volunteers.  Robin boosts him up and through the window.  It’s a tight fit, even for a small child, but he manages to wiggle out.  

Then Robin waits.  He waits for that kid to run safely to the police car before he takes the next child. And then there’s an police officer who manages to run right to the other side of the window to help.  

“No eyes on this side for now it seems,” the officer whispers.  “But we don’t have long. They have an auditorium full of children they claim they will fire on if we enter the building.  So we gotta go fast.”

Robin is only half listening as he boosts the second child through the window.

Then a third.

He is a selfish man, because he wants Henry up and out immediately, but the boy keeps assuring his friends to go ahead of him, and it is killing Robin.

Finally every child but Henry is up and out.  When Robin moves to get him, Henry flinches.

“What about you?” Henry asks. “You won’t fit.”

“I have to go back to your mom, Henry,” Robin whispers.  He looks at the officer. “Room 105 is full of students who managed to escape.  Some are hurt, they—“

“We know,” the officer assures, waving his hand.  “Still safe. Quickly, get that kid out. They see me here, they may shoot up the whole school.”

“Henry,” Robin pleads as the boy backs away again.  “Please, I need your help.  I need you to go.  Your mum needs you.”

“We need _you_ too,” Henry argues.  “I don’t want to leave you!”

“He’ll be fine, son,” the officer says.  “Come on kid, we gotta go before you get everyone killed—”

They are interrupted by a huge explosion.  Screams erupt from inside, and it’s all Robin needs to scoop Henry in his arms, ignore his words of protest and squirms - things that hopefully he gunmen can’t hear over the screams of other children, over the cracking and crumbling of some part of the school Robin hopes to god is not room 105.

There’s gun fire.  Lots of it. Round after round is firing and there’s shouting and yelling and panic. He watches out the window as Henry runs with the police officer, holding his breath until he gets behind a police car, then breathes a sigh of relief.  The gunfire wasn’t aimed in their direction.

Robin sends a text to Regina.  

_Henry safe. Got out. Waiting for you outside._

He sees her typing immediately but pockets his phone.  He can’t read words from her right now, his heart is already too heavy.  Just seeing she has it is enough to keep him going. She’s alive for now, and there’s gunfire, and he’s got to get to her.  He has to get to her, see her for himself, and there’s too much chaos right now.

He peers back out of the locker room, sure he looks ridiculous holding a spray can in one hand with another bulging out of his pocket, but it’s not like he has access to a gun, right?

It’s a much different scene in the hallway now.  Two gunmen are screaming, telling everyone to stay down.

The air smells slightly of smoke, and it makes Robin’s heart race worrying about the source.  

“We told you fuckers not to try to enter!” He hears a gunman scream into a phone.  Robin stops, finds himself inching closer to catch the conversation.

“That is on fucking _you…_ I’m not telling you where, but you better believe we have traps all over this fucking school, you think we planned this overnight? We know this school better than you.  You will never get in here and get those kids out alive unless you give us what we want. You have twenty-three minutes before you lose the first hostage— assuming that little stunt of yours didn’t cost you a few casualties.  We want our money and our armored car and safe passage to Russia. Now.”

The man hangs up while another young man who looks rather familiar walks over. For a second, Robin thinks he’s a student.  He’s dressed in plain clothes, and not carrying a weapon. But then he sees the walkie talkie in his hand.

“I’m going to do a sweep of the first and second floor - check the windows up there, make sure we don’t see anyone in or out.”

“Good idea,” the gunman says.  “We need to move these kids to the auditorium.  Make sure the bomb worked and there’s no cops inside our space.  These kids are young and they are a prize, I wouldn’t worry about keeping any others.  If you see any stragglers, leave them or shoot them if they seem to be trying to escape.  We have enough to take hostage.”

The only thing that he can think of is Regina in that classroom, a thin wooden door the only thing shielding her from gun fire.

He has to get to her.   _Now._

He takes an opportunity —  both men have their back turned —  and makes his way to the stairs. But his luck runs out.

A man is there, walking down the stairs as he goes up.

“Hey!” he screams.

He raises his gun at Robin and everything flashes before his eyes.

Then survival mode kicks in.

Wasp spray may seem like a random thing to bring along with him, but he remembered that story Will told him, how his sister had used wasp spray on a man who entered the store after hours and nearly blinded him.  Will said it’s sharper, easier to aim than pepper spray. And if accidentally shot in the eyes, blinding.

Robin has never used wasp spray before, and this is a hell of a first try.

He aims and presses the trigger.

It comes out in a steady stream, is enough to have the man closing his eyes and pausing for just long enough for Robin to get close enough to wrestle the gun out of his hands.

It’s a struggle, it’s loud, but there’s chaos elsewhere now, more gunfire, and it’s just enough to drown out his startled cry before Robin grabs the gun from his hands and is able to slam the butt of it as hard as he can against the man’s temple.

He goes down hard, sliding down the stairs, seemingly unconscious, but Robin can’t say for sure.  He is too busy trying to understand the gun in his hand, which appears to be some AR-15 styled rifle.

He walks up the stairs with a bit more confidence.  Though to be honest, he’s not sure he knows how to fire this weapon, so hopefully holding it is deterrent enough.

And if not, hopefully arcades and carnival games have taught him well enough to aim this thing.

He hears footsteps behind him, rushing up the stairs.  He needs a distraction.

So he takes the can of bug spray he had stolen and wraps it in the rags he had and lights the rags on fire with his little lighter, then tosses it down the opposite direction of Regina’s class.  If it doesn’t blow at least it makes a loud sound and the people behind him may think he’s going that way.

He’s only a few steps from the hallway of Regina’s room before the chaos starts.

“Some people are trying to escape!” he hears, and his only thought is Regina.

Regina, god he hopes she didn’t try to run after hearing the explosion, god let her be okay.

There’s gun fire coming from somewhere, he’s not sure where, but he thinks it’s from above, but he can’t process a thing, everything is a blur, the only thought is _Regina_ , _Regina, Regina._

She has to be safe.

She fucking _has_ to be.

That couldn’t have been the last time he saw her.

It wouldn’t be fair.

He rounds the corner just in time to see one of the men near Regina’s door, whispering something into a walkie talkie.

He’s right in front of Regina’s door.  And something just snaps, a blind rage, bottled up anger at the fact these men are attacking children, terrifying them, shooting them, _killing_ them, all for some half-baked scheme to get rich.  

“Get the fuck away from there!” Robin screams, holding his gun up.

“Oh _shit!”_ The gunman immediately throws his hands up.  

“Take it easy, man, I’m not doing anything,” the guy defends, backing away from the door.

“You are shooting at _children,”_ Robin corrects, “Don’t tell me you aren’t doing anything.”

“I didn’t shoot anyone.  I’m just along for the ride, okay?  And I’m putting my gun down now.”

The gun is on a strap on his shoulder and he makes a move toward it, but Robin balks.

“Slowly,” he warns, praying he looks convincing holding the gun, hoping he knows how to use it.  “Empty the bullets. Take it off and slide it over to me.”

“Alright,” the shooter says.  “Really slow…” He removes his gun, unloads it, takes out the clip and empties it, slides it away, the entire time, his eyes fixated on Robin.

Then his focus shifts to somewhere off in the distance.  Somewhere behind Robin.

It’s a quick glance, only a second before Robin catches on, but it’s just a split second too late.

Robin spins around in time to find another man midfire, gun aimed at him.

Robin aims himself and pulls the trigger, holding his breath, hoping it fires back.

It does.

But not before a bullet hits Robin hard in the side, another in his thigh maybe, but adrenaline is high and the wound in his middle burns so fiercely he can’t be sure where else he is hit.

But he shot the man who fired at him, that’s clear, the man goes down, and Robin is unsure where he’s hit, but from across the long hall he can see blood pooling.

And then he’s tackled from behind.

The man he told to remove his gun has it now, but thank god Robin had the good sense to tell him to unload, or he’d be dead.

Except the man is grabbing at _Robin’s_ gun now, while his other hand is around his neck, strangling him, and Robin is weak, and wounded, and losing blood and oxygen fast.  

It’s over for him, he realizes, but if he gives up this gun, it may be over for Regina.  And that’s what keeps him fighting, will keep him fighting until he can’t anymore.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For #OQAngstFest Prompts 6, 42, 48, 50, 23, 24, 40, 41, 42, 44.  
> TW: death

Regina is a nervous wreck.

She’s worried about them both, Henry and Robin.  Didn’t realize how much she worried about Robin until he left and she realized it might be the last time she sees him.  And somehow she’s able to split her panic between losing Henry, losing Robin, or losing both of them.

She had heard footsteps and saw the combat boots from under the door.  Once. He walked right past their door, turned around and walked back.

She hopes to god he doesn’t come back.

Children keep finding their way into her classroom when he first leaves.  Little taps, whispers, begs for her to open.

There’s anxiety every time she opens that door - waiting, worrying a shooter will appear from the corner and catch them this time.

But they have been lucky.  There are seven more children here now.  Sophie is on the phone with a police officer working right outside.  He has their location but tells them they aren’t able to get through the window yet.

“Another student tried to get out the window across the hall,” she whispers.  “A shooter caught them trying to escape and shot at them. They don’t want us to risk it yet.”

So for now, they are staying here.  But the police know their location and the SWAT team is gearing up, and the police are telling them everything is going to be okay.

But then there’s an explosion and gunfire and Regina loses her damn mind.  She walks toward the door, Sophie Cranston nearly tackling her, her thin arms surprisingly strong as she holds her back.  “Ms. Mills, No!! We have to stay!”

“My _son_ ,” she reminds.  

“Your boyfriend has him,” Sophie says simply, as if it’s not even a question that Robin and her are together.  

“He could be hurt too!” she whispers heatedly back.  She knows she's being a child, and thank god Sophie Cranston was practically born an adult, because in this moment someone has to be the mature one.

“If you run out you risk everyone getting hurt,” Sophie says, her green eyes focusing on Regina’s, pleading.  “Just wait.”

Before Regina can say anything she feels her phone vibrate.  

A text.  From Robin, thank god, Robin.

_Henry safe.  He got out. Waiting for you._

And the relief over her son is almost staggering, blinding for a second.

She texts back frantically.

_Thank you god Robin I’m so scared._

_thank you thank you thank you i can never repay you for this_

_I love you so much, god I love you_

Gradually her relief dissipates because Robin hasn’t told her where he is.

_Are you safe?_

He’s not responded or read anything.  Fear sets in.

_Robin?_

“Sophie ask the police if an eight year old escaped the school and if he was with anyone else,” she whispers.

Sophie does as instructed, spinning around to hide from Regina (in case it’s bad news, she assumes).  That black hair whips around as she spins, then forms the perfect shield from Regina, as she cannot see her face, can only hear the hushed tones begging for news and no doubt saying her teacher’s mental state is currently compromised.  

A few seconds later Sophie turns back around, looking relieved.

“Six boys got out from the basement, the officer doesn’t know their name.  He said a teacher helped, he thinks, pushed them through a little basement window.  Teacher still down there. He was still there after the explosion and guns.”

Six.  Henry’s gym class has roughly thirty children, only six escaped, and her son is most likely one of them.

Because of Robin.

She has no doubt he’s the man they mistook as a teacher.

Fuck.

There’s a loud boom then, not right outside the door, but close, perhaps in the main atrium, somewhere where it echos and reverberates loudly.  Sophie’s eyes widen as she walks toward the door, shielding Regina from it, as if she’s anticipating that she try to run through it again. But Regina just shakes her head and grits her teeth.  The idiot teenager is right, after all.  She can't go running after Robin, as much as she loves him, any rescue mission she attempts would be suicidal and possibly hurt him in the process. 

 

She has to wait it out.

“Police got inside,” Sophie whispers, “They are planning an ambush.  They want us to get underneath our desks just in case things get bead.”

But some of the kids are too injured to crouch, and they have a very wounded Brian to tend to, so all anyone does is crouch down, sit on the floor and wait.

Silently.

And then they hear footsteps down the hallway.

It’s difficult to tell exactly, but Regina just _knows_ it’s one of them.  And the footsteps aren’t just walking down the hallway, they stop, then start again.

“Sophie tell the police they are coming.  We have to get you kids out.”

Sophie whispers something and then looks up, whispering first to other students and then to Regina.  Very softly, considering the footsteps outside. “We open a window. They tell us when it’s safe. And if someone tries the door we all just run.”

But Brian is too injured to move, so Regina knows she won’t be escaping at all.  

She will be staying here, waiting, hoping whoever opens that door decides to take her hostage instead of killing her.

“I want everyone by the window ready,” she breathes back.  “That means you too, Sophie.”

“I’m not leaving—“

“Sophie, I’ve got it,” she mouths, pointing to the window.  “Get over there _now.”_

But Sophie doesn’t move, just stares at her defiantly, her hand on Brian’s arm.

It’s useless to argue with her, and they have little time, so Regina just shakes her head and tilts her head to look under the door again.  She is just in time to see a pair of combat boots walking and stopping in front of the custodial closet.

And then opening the door.

She sees him walking toward her door and points at the classmates, mouthing a very clear _OUT!_

And the students don’t need to be told twice, all but Sophie jumping out the window, not quietly, but who cares about quiet now?

“GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM THERE!”

Sophie grabs Regina’s forearm tightly.  Sophie doesn’t know Robin’s voice as well as she does, but she knows well enough that he has a British accent, and her green eyes widen, her perfectly white teeth biting her bottom lip.

Regina focuses on breathing. And then she cannot help but do what Robin asked her not to, and peel back the paper covering the window to her door, peering out discreetly, she hopes.

The gunman has hands raised in the air, gun on a strap on his shoulder, looking terrified.  She can’t see Robin from this vantage point and has no idea how he’s been able to hold him like this.

“You are shooting at _children,”_ she hears Robin say in a voice full of vein, seething anger she doesn’t think she’s ever known from the man. “Don’t tell me you aren’t doing anything.”

The gunman makes some argument, and then he’s taking his gun off, and… unloading it?

Robin must have a gun.  It’s all she can think of.  Or maybe he’s holding that box cutter to someone’s throat.  She can’t be sure, whatever it is, the gunman is surrendering his weapon, they are _safe._

She’s breathing a sigh of relief as she hears gunfire and shouting.  That shooter who had surrendered his gun is running past her classroom, grabbing the (thankfully unloaded) gun as he darts past, and fuck everything, she knows he’s running toward Robin.  

Fuck everything, she rips the entire paper out the window and looks. Before Sophie can even argue, she’s opening the door and peering out in time to see Robin getting attacked.  There’s a hopefully lifeless body behind him, and shit, there’s blood, and she hopes it’s not Robin’s.

But he’s losing a struggle, he’s getting beaten and strangled.  Regina eyes the toolkit, the hammer Robin told her to use if she couldn’t open the classroom windows.  

She grabs it and for once Sophie doesn’t say a word, just nods silently.

It’s a blur after that.

Regina has always had a temper, but it’s never been quite like this, where the anger takes over and she can’t feel her legs moving, can’t hear anything except the rush of blood whooshing through her temples.  It’s all heart pounding terror as her body moves of its own volition.

She sees red, every breath a vengeful, blind rage.

Robin is down, and some asshole has his hand wrapped around his neck as the other grabs at the gun in his hand.

And all she can think is _Not_ _Robin_.

Of all the people to die today — or any day —  let it be anyone else, let it be _her,_ not the wonderful man who just sacrificed his life for a child that isn’t even _his._

Someone that perfect can’t die.

She hasn’t even gotten a chance to thank him, to tell him how incredible she thinks he is, to give him well-deserved praise not only for saving Henry but for a thousand other moments through her life.

It’s so unfair, if he dies—

She can’t even process the idea of losing him, he’s too much a part of her.

The only thought she has as she looks at the back of that man’s skull and aims is _Not_ _Robin._

Robin can’t die.

She can barely feel her arm, isn’t sure any of this is really happening, that she’s really swinging the hammer until the very moment of impact.

There’s a sickening splat, the hammer digs in deep to his skull, the sound of a strangled gasp as he falls over.  Everything reverberates and she feels _alive_ again, suddenly aware of her arms and the weight of the hammer as she aims and cracks down hard against his skull again.

And again.

“R’gina!” Robin gasps, stuttering as he tries to stand.  “Love, stop! He’s gone.”

She hits the man just once more, as hard as she can, and then looks over at Robin.

He’s trying to stand up, still holding the gun, and Regina realizes he needs help and rushes to give it to him, offering a shoulder for him to lean on and hurries him back into her room.

Her classroom is empty now, and Regina hopes to god it means someone was there to help Brian and Sophie out.  

Regina shuts the door and locks it, gives herself a moment to just wrap her arms around Robin and hug him tightly.  

“Where is everyone else?” Robin asks.

“Safe. Police cleared them to exit through the window,” she whispers, still hugging him tight.

“Why didn’t you leave?” he asks, and if she didn’t know it, she would think he sounded _upset_ with her.

“I saw everything from the classroom, I had to help,” she replies softly.  

“God, Regina you should have.  I wanted you safe more than anything.”

She’s livid at the idea of him expecting this of her.  Doesn’t he know by now how she feels? How could she ever…?

She pulls out of the embrace enough to stare daggers at him, to make sure he _knows_ how ridiculous it is.

“What in the hell was I supposed to do, just sit back and watch you suffer and die out there?” He starts to tell her _Yes, that’s exactly what you were supposed to do_ but she waves her hand to stop his talking.  “No, you wouldn’t have left me, and I sure as hell wasn't going to leave you. We lost enough people today, I’m sure.  I couldn’t lose you, too.”

“I’m sorry, I just got scared, okay?” Robin asks, pulling her into another hug. “Don’t be mad, darling, I just wanted you out of here.”

This hug is tighter, deeper, before was a bit at an odd angle, but she’s flush against him now, wrapped tightly.  And that’s when she feels the warm wetness around his middle.

She thinks back to the bullets, the blood when she helped Robin off the ground, and she just knows.

It’s _his_ blood.

He’s been shot.

Shit, he nearly died saving her.

“You’re shaking,” Robin whispers, his hand smoothing over her cheek. Soft, gentle.  Loving. Even at a time like this.

“You’re _bleeding_ ,” she croaks.  “A lot.”

Robin urges her back into his arms, and she then notices he’s leaning against the wall for support.  Shit.

.::.

“I’m alright, darling,” Robin whispers, but he’s not sure of that, really.  He slumps further against the wall. “Just glad you’re okay.”

“I’m not okay if you aren’t,” she whispers back, “ I can't imagine my life with you not in it.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” he whispers back.  

But is he?  His head is in the clouds, blood is dripping down his side, his thigh, leaking into his shocks and shoes.  He doesn’t dare look down at his bloodied clothes. If he does, Regina will notice how much he’s lost, she will know that he’s fading.

He feels the need to tell her now, make his confession, while he’s still lucid, let her know of the feelings he tried so hard to hide.

“Listen, Regina, I said I love you and I meant it—“

“GET YOUR HANDS UP!” a voice screams, and oh no, they aren’t out of this yet, not by a long shot.  

Robin freezes for a second, worried it’s the voice of one of those gunmen.

But it’s not the shooters.  It’s the police, crouched on the other side of the window, their weapons aimed at Robin.

Right.  Because Robin has a gun slung around his shoulder, they think he’s one of them.  

“No!” Regina cries, throwing herself in front of Robin, in front of the officers. “Don’t shoot!! He’s a good guy!  He saved us, he got the gun from them, don’t—“

Robin’s hands are in the air as he struggles to stay standing.  It was easier when he was leaning against Regina and the door. But now the police are here, and the wound to his thigh definitely making itself known, the one in his side equally painful.  

An officer yells at Regina, and he’s able to whisper something back to her, a promise that it will be okay, just put your hands up, love.

Once she does, an officer approaches, grabs the gun off his shoulder, then begins to pat him down, grimacing when he reaches the bloodied wound.

“Sorry,” the young policeman whispers.  “Had to make sure.”

He presses a radio button and whispers, “Two teachers, in 105, male needs immediate medical.”

Robin isn’t going to correct him on exactly who he is, it’s not important at the moment, anyway.

“Can you make it out of here on your own?” the other officer asks.

Robin just nods blankly, daring to ask, “The elementary school, my son—“

“Safe,” the man assures.  “Again, can you get through that window?  You’re losing a lot of blood. _”_

“I can do it,” he promises, fuck his leg and the slight drop, he’s not waiting for paramedics.

“Then the two of you, go _now.”_

The officer is pushing him as he hangs by the door, whispering more orders into his radio.

Regina helps him out of the window — strong, she is, he never really realized _how_ strong until she’s nearly carrying him out the window.  He doesn’t have to put any pressure on his leg, she insists on making him use her as a crutch.

And then they are on the school lawn, darting to safety beyond a police blockade, him still limping with an arm around her.

Once they are out, once a paramedic is there and the much-needed adrenaline wears off, that’s when Robin is made aware of the pain he hasn’t let himself feel.

He knows he can rest now.  Regina is safe, Henry is safe, Roland is safe.  

“I need you to take care of Roland,” he hears himself say.

He sees the panic on her face as he slurs the words out.  She’s protesting, arguing something, he hears her begging _Don’t you dare die on me,_ and Robin fights to smile, tries to will himself to swear he won’t.  But he can’t process much over the pain and tidal wave of exhaustion overpowering him.

“Promise me. About Roland,” he whispers.

He sees her nod, and it’s all he needs to know.

Darkness spirals from behind his eyes until he can’t see anything.  His body goes limp, the last thing he can feel is Regina’s soft fingertips through his hair.

.::.

He’s faintly aware of noises and sounds then, of a paramedic talking to him, failing to find a vein, he remembers the roof of the ambulance, bars, wires hanging down, the familiar feel of pain medication taking over.

And then he stops fighting it, stops trying so hard to stay awake, and just lets his consciousness leave him.

When he wakes, it’s the beep, beep, beeping of a machine next to him that he hears first, and then he sees blinding light, everything blues and then shifts into focus.

“Robin?”

He hears her before he sees her, tilts his head to the direction to find her seated on the little couch in the corner of the room.

“Hello, love.” His voice sounds rough and gritty, throat feels dry and raw, but it doesn’t matter.  She’s here.

“Oh thank god!” Regina nearly lunges towards him, the cords in his arm pull and twist; he hurts, but he doesn’t care.  Her arms are around him, kissing every inch of exposed skin it seems she can find, his hands, his neck, his brow, his cheek.

He lifts his hand to wrap around her, feel her solid and safe in his arms.

“The boys?” he asks, when he can find his breath.

She’s still kissing him all over, and he’s vaguely aware of the dull ache in his side as she touches him too roughly, but he doesn’t care, not at all, when she’s all around him like this.

If he did die, he assumes this is what heaven would be like.

She ends with his lips, her mouth pressing against his with passion and heat.  But she doesn’t deepen it. He doesn’t either. After all, they are just friends.

Or they were, on the morning of her birthday.  Now… everything feels different.

“Sorry,” she whispers, pulling back, obviously mistaking his surprise for dislike.  “I just…” she shakes her head. “I shouldn’t be kissing you, you just woke up. I just needed to, just for a moment.”

“Don’t ever apologize for kissing me.” Robin urges her towards him again for another brief peck.  

He watches her blush as she cups his cheek, watches her smile deeply for a second, before she answers his earlier questions.

“The boys are safe.  Both of them. It wasn’t easy but Mrs. Lucas got them to sleep.  Just spoke to her about a half hour ago. They were scared at first, though the doctors said you were going to be just fine, and that settled Roland.  Henry… he’s a bit older, and he was worried, but he still managed to sleep.”

Robin grimaces.  “Poor Roland. Poor you, too.  This is not a very happy birthday.”

Regina shakes her head.  “He said he made a birthday wish for us to be safe and alive, so he feels quite responsible for our survival.  He’s a very optimistic boy.”

“How soon before I can go home to him?” Robin asks.

“Not too long, actually.  A week, they think. You lost a lot of blood, but no major organs hit.  The gunshot wound to your thigh was a through-and-through.” She breathes in slowly.  “We are lucky.”

“How about everyone else?” he asks.

“It’s all over.” she assures. “Two of the shooters are in custody, the rest died.  Including...” She frowns. “I killed that man, Robin.”

He knew it, could tell from the cracked skull, the blood and bits of flesh. But he had hoped she would never find out, somehow.  She looks guilty now, as if she’s waiting for him admonish her. He recalls how he had to tell her to stop as she hit him with that hammer over and over.

She bites her bottom lip nervously, and he knows.  She’s feeling guilty.

“He was attacking me,” he reminds.  “And he was going to go after you next, you and the children. He could have killed them all.  You had no choice.”

Regina blows out a frustrated breath and flares back at him defiantly.  “I know. I don’t care, I'd kill him a thousand times over. I’ll sleep well knowing I killed him.” She says the words forcefully, but he does not miss the quiver in her jaw.

“It’s not your fault,” Robin repeats, ignoring her scathing _I know_.  “It’s not, Regina.”

A single tear drops down her face, and she wipes at it angrily.  “I would have kept hitting him until there was nothing left if not for you,” she admits.  “I had the excuse of defending myself but…” She shakes her head. “I wanted him to suffer _._ ”

“So did I.” Robin weaves his fingers through hers, playing a bit with hers, the way he used to.  “That’s normal, love. It doesn’t make you a bad person. That man was terrorizing an entire school.”

“No one saw it coming,” Regina sighs.  “We were totally unprepared for something like this.  These things aren’t supposed to happen in a small town.”

“That reminds me.  I don’t want you working there anymore,” Robin grimaces immediately, because it’s not like he can make Regina do anything, and he doesn’t mean to sound so barbaric, but the protective surge he feels for her in this moment is overwhelming.  “I just mean, please don’t work there anymore. It’s not safe. How’d that many men sneak in with all those weapons?“

Regina relaxes, it seems, thankful for the shift in conversation away from her justified homicide into giving a blind recitation of facts.  “One of the fire exits was broken, I guess a few kids knew and have been using it to sneak in and out. Felix Jones let the men in and helped smuggle in weapons and locks over the last few weeks.  He’s a senior, he... I don’t know, his brother influenced him a lot, I suppose.”

“How many didn’t make it?” Robin cannot help but ask.  And then he regrets it immediately when Regina’s eyes well up.  Shit.

She fights through the tears anyway, though her voice wavers.  “Four students. And Jefferson Potter, he… um… ”

Her faces pinches, tears flow, but she can’t say the words.  She needn’t say them. It’s obvious what happened.

“Oh, Regina, I’m so sorry.” Robin never liked Jefferson Potter, possibly because four years ago Regina went on a few dates with him.  Or because he hurt her when he blew her off soon afterwards. But now, it doesn’t matter. He wasn’t a _bad_ man, and he’s gone.  And it’s so unfair.

“It’s okay,” Regina croaks.  “I’m okay. A few teachers and students are still in bad shape but we are hoping for the best. It could have been so many more.  The kids are singing your praises, you know. You’re a hero.”

“Anyone would have done the same,” he responds, but she won’t let him have it. She’s shaking her head.  “They locked the administrative office and teachers lounge, they couldn’t get down the hallway to where the classrooms were. But there were several other teachers in who were there.  None of them did what you did. They helped hide the children around them, but they didn’t run into gun fire to save others. You _are_ a hero.”

“It was for Henry,” he reminds her.  “Not just for anyone. He’s like a son to me.”

“He feels the same,” Regina says, her voice all pitchy and broken.  “As do I. We, we love you.”

He feels his heart sink a bit at those words, in that context.  She’s letting him down slowly, reminding him she loves him as a family member, the way Henry does.

He should just take it, and be glad for what they have.  But today taught him that he can’t keep waiting for another time, another moment, things could come crashing down at any second.  And in this moment, he needs her to know.

“Regina, I love you so much.  I love you more than you know, you’re everything to me, I—“

“I love you too,” she interrupts, a smile spreading over her face as she grasps for one of his hands, but no, she doesn’t get it.

“No, I’m _in love_ with you, I have been for some time.  And I’m sorry for saying it now, I know it's not the best timing, but I can’t keep this up forever, I can’t hide it anymore, I have to— ”

He doesn’t get to finish his rambling thought because she’s kissing him, hard this time, deeply, opening her mouth swiping her tongue against his, and he almost can’t believe it’s happening, wonders if the pain medication is making him delirious.

“I am in love you, too,” she says when she pulls away, her eyes twinkling, bright and wet.  “Very much so.”

It’s sweet relief, because he’s carried the burden of loving her for nearly a decade, and the weight of the secret nearly crushed him at times.  But hearing that she loves him back is entirely overwhelming, has his heart pounding heavy, going dizzy in a way he is sure is not entirely related to pain medication.

“If I had known all it took was walking into gunfire to make you love me...” he kids, smiling back at her.

She doesn’t smile back at all.  In fact she looks mildly offended.  

“This isn’t new for me,” she says, her voice choked up but defensive.  “I’ve loved you since I got the flu and you spent an entire week at my place, crashing on my couch and caring for me and the child no one thought I could raise alone.  I’ve loved you for so long, Robin, I—“

She loses her voice to choked sobs, then.  Robin fights the pain, leaning up to wrap his arm around her and urges her to lie next to him.

She melts into his touch, pliant and willing as she cuddles against him, her head on his shoulder as she carefully avoids all wires and wounds.

"Me too," Robin admits with a sad chuckle.  "I should have something a long time ago.  I’ve pictured telling you before, and I can assure you it wasn’t while I was lying in a hospital bed after a trauma of epic proportions."

"Well, those years were complicated," Regina reminds him with a little smirk that turns into a frown.   

He knows what she's thinking, but before he can assure her it's nothing, her voice wavers, going apologetic.  

 

“I tried to stop when Marian came back,” she admits.  “Tried, but I couldn’t just stop loving you. When she accused us of having an affair I felt so guilty.  We always said we were just friends and she was being ridiculous, but she _wasn’t._ She was perceptive.  She saw through me. I should have pushed you away, but I was selfish.  I ruined her sobriety and your relationship, I know.”

 

“No.” Robin’s hand is in her hair, stroking softly.  He hasn’t realized she felt guilt for this. She needn’t though.  Marian did see through them both, she knew they had feelings for one another. It did make him feel like a fucking awful person, at the time, being in love with someone while the mother of his child wanted to make it work.  But in the years since Marian left, he’s grown perspective. That relationship with Marin was doomed from the start. They didn’t love one another _that way_ , and without that love it was difficult to handle a child, Marian’s addiction and her disease _._

 

Regina knows most of this, she knows of Marian’s struggle with drugs and alcohol, knows she also is bipolar, but he never told her the specifics of either or how he felt about Marian. So he tells her, “You could not have pushed me away.  I was in love with you then. From the moment you came back to town, really. Or maybe since we were children, and I didn’t really realize it until then. And we aren’t to blame for Marian falling off the wagon anymore than we are for every other time it happened.  I stayed with her during the pregnancy not because I loved her but because when she told me about her struggle, I was so worried she’d fall again and lose the child. Roland was magical, he pumped her full of happy hormones. She didn’t have any trouble then. But as soon as he was born… it wasn’t you, or us.  It was the disease and the addiction. She’s told me as much.”

 

“Oh.” He feels her relax beside him.  He wonders how long she felt misplaced guilt over this issue.  "Still, it was unfair of me, feeling what I did, and still seeing you all the time--"

 

"You weren't the only one feeling it," he reminds.  "I was too, and if you're going to say you wished you would have pushed me away back then, I'm going to let you know it wouldn't work.  I couldn't be away from you.  I couldn't stop feeling what I did for you.  If you had refused to see me, I think I would have ended things with Marian even sooner.  You know how hard it was with her and Roland when he was an infant.  You were..." he smiles and carresses her cheek.  "You were the bright spot in my world. You kept me going, and helped me so much with my son. All I regret is not ending things with Marian sooner and telling you how much I loved you years ago.  I kept waiting for the perfect time to ask you out, confess everything, ask if you wanted to try to be more than friends.  But it was too hard to keep in after... everything.  I was so scared of losing you before I said it, and I let you know during the worst possible moment."

"There's no bad moment to hear an I love you."  Regina is still smiling, she looks lighter, happier.  "Especially from someone you love."

He swoops in to catch her lips again, nearly laughing at how good it feels to touch her like this.  

"You've no idea how many times I've thought of doing this," he admits, almost laughing at his good fortune, delirious with happiness.  "I didn't think we'd get to ever do it.  Especially today during..."  he trails off, not wanting to remind her of what they went through.  It's on the surface of his mind though, and it appears on hers too.  She doesn't even react at the mention of what they went through, she just nods instead.

"I don't think I realized how much I loved you until our lives were in danger."  She's choked up, tears forming again.  "All I could think about was how much I loved you and how I might not even get the chance to tell you how much you meant to me all these years.   Thank you for everything you did every day, including today.  I wouldn't have kept it together if it weren't for you.  I... I don't know how we made it out alive."

She sounds terrified, and she has every right to be.  He suddenly feels guilty for springing this on her when her emotions are high, when she's in the wake of a disaster.  She should mourn. 

"Regina, I want to be with you--" he starts.

"You have me." She holds him closer. "I'm not going anywhere."

He lets himself feel her, her body warmly pressed up to his as she settles against him, fits perfectly against him.  God, he loves her so much it hurts.

"I know, darling.  And I've wanted this for so long.  But I really don’t want to screw this up.  Maybe we should put a pin in this for awhile and wait for those emotional wounds to heal.”

Regina laughs wetly.  God he loves the sound of her, he loves everything about her.  So much that he can’t help shifting and pressing a kiss into her hair.

How long will it take for them to heal from this?  Will they ever truly recover? 

“I’ve never told anyone why I have Henry,” Regina breathes, interrupting his thoughts.  “Most people wondered how I adopted a toddler when I was living in Manhattan as a twenty-six year old.  Especially since I never seemed like the type. I’m sure you wondered how I did it and _why_ I did it, didn’t you?”

It’s an odd shift in conversation, but certainly one that interests him.  He chuckles and nods. He’s always been curious as to why she adopted Henry when she was so young, when there was so much she wanted to do at her job in the city.  She never talked of settling down or moving home until the moment she returned with Henry. It was odd, certainly, especially for those who knew her. It wasn’t his place to ask, so he never did. He has waited for this moment, for her to confide in him.

“I knew Henry’s mother.  She was one of the first students I met.  Very gifted, very bright. Homeless when I met her, she ran away from a bad group home.  So happy when pregnant, you wouldn’t believe it. She didn’t have anyone else, but she knew she could raise him on her own.  He was born, and she was doing great things. She got into _Yale_ , had no idea how to do Yale with a baby, but she got in, fully funded; I was so proud. I babysat a bit so she could take a second job bartending to save up so she didn’t have to work as much when the semester started.  Then a drunk driver hit her when she was walking home from her shift, and just like that, her life was over. She had a will that left Henry in my care. It was a terribly tragedy, a shocking trauma, but it gave me my son.”

“You never told anyone.” Robin is utterly perplexed.  “When people asked why you did this, when they said you were too young and it was foolish, you had the perfect response, but—“

“I never want Henry to know,” she explains, shifting out of his embrace so he can see her face.  She’s stern on this, serious. It matters a lot to her. “I don’t want him to think I got stuck with him.  I _adopted_ him.  I want him to always believe it was my choice, because it was.  If anyone thought I did it out of obligation, in a town this small? It might make its way to him.  You’re the only one I’m telling.”

“No one else will ever know,” Robin vows.  “And, for what it’s worth, you’re an amazing mum, and the fact you kept all this to yourself for his benefit might make me love and admire you even more, if that was possible.”

Regina rolls her eyes, but she’s obviously touched, raising her hand to wipe a tear before continuing.

“Anyway, the point is, the best thing in my life happened while I was still grieving a terrible loss, and dealing with a trauma. Maybe becoming a new mother when you’re still grieving wasn’t the best way to start things, but look at Henry and me now.”

“That’s true.”  Hope blooms in his chest, clouded by guilt. He shouldn’t get the right to be so happy, not now.  

But he thinks she knows where she’s going with this.

“I don’t want to put a pin in this, Robin.” Regina smiles, stroking his cheek.  “We’ve waited long enough. We don’t have to force it, but let’s not run away from it either.”

“Alright,” Robin says, stroking her hair.  “We’ll do what comes naturally.”

She meets his lips this time, her lips slightly parted and willing.  And hell, he said he'd do what comes naturally.  So he deepens the kiss, cups at the back of her neck and anchors her to him.

They get caught up in one another this time.  One kiss turns into two, then three, then they are making out, exploring this new type of intimacy with one another.

God, can she ever kiss.  Her lips are warm, her tongue swirls and carresses the inside of his mouth in a way he doesn't think he's had with anyone else.  He has flashes he shouldn't, thoguhts entirely inappropriate for the mood and moment.  She's beautiful, smart, witty,  caring, generous, a natural mother.  Now he can add an amazing kisser to the already impressive roster.  And he knows how sensual she is, he could have guessed this, but there's nothing like being able to experience it himself.

He never wants to stop kissing her.

But he's weak and recovering, still in pain.  And he's panting from a few light kisses, such that she has to pull away from him.

"Wow," she says, her own breath labored.  "That was.... wow."

He chuckles, the lack of air making him sputter and cough, and her eyes go wide with guilt. 

"S'ok," Robin rushes to assure her.  "Just lost my breath for a second."

He tries to draw her back for another kiss, but Regina shakes her head and pushes at his chest playfully.

"You need to rest."

He groans, a but deflated.  "I need  _you."_

“Speaking of that,” she adds primly pulling away from him.  “You’re going to need a bit of rehab.  No carrying anything for a few weeks, and your leg may be weak for awhile.  And you’re going to let me take care of you.”

“Am I?” he asks playfully.

“Mhm.  You and Roland are moving in with me until you are healed.  Or we can move in with you until then if you’d rather.”

It’s sweet that she’s offering, but he doesn’t want to put her out.  “It’s fine, Regina. I can take care of myself and Roland for a bit.”

“Non negotiable,” she murmurs into his shoulder as she cuddles close to him.  They don’t do this every day, they don’t do this _ever,_ but it feels so natural, he almost forgets that Regina Mills planting a kiss to his neck is new, uncharted territory. “I love you, and I’m taking care of you.  Plus I have no intention of letting you out of my sight any time soon.”

“Well it sounds like I have no choice.” He smiles at her and ruffles her hair.  “I’d be glad to have you and Henry over to my house.  For as long as you like.”

Regina’s home is a bit roomier than his, thanks to a thoughtful trust fund from her father that allows her to live decently on a teacher’s salary.  So it might have been more practical to move in with her temporarily. But if he's going to be handicapped, he prefers to limp around in his own home.

The nurse interrupts them then, scolding Regina and directing her right off the bed.

Regina is exhausted, it’s clear the way she fights a yawn as she struggles to listen to the nurse, the way her body slumps against the arm of that little couch.  

“You need to rest, darling.  Go home and get into that bed of yours.  I’ll be right here.”

“I don’t want to go home yet.” Robin can watches as her body tenses at the idea of leaving, in fact, and it occurs to him that she’s not ready to return to an empty house.

“Alright, then stay with me, sneak back into this bed for awhile so I can hold you a bit before the next nurse yells at you.”

She smiles and though she murmurs that she really shouldn’t, and he needs to heal, she lets herself be talked back into bed beside him, cuddling up close.  He feels sleep taking him almost immediately after she joins, a sense of relief and wholeness filling him, mixing with the morphine.

When he wakes, the sunlight is beating down on him, and Regina is gone.

For a moment he wonders if it was all a dream.

A medically induced fantasy of getting to talk and touch and kiss her, tell her what she meant to him.

He wouldn’t be surprised, vivid dreams after the day they had, wouldn’t that make sense?

He’s about to call the nurse and just ask her if there even was a woman here last night at all.  

How did she even get in?  She’s not immediate family, after all.  He has her written down as his emergency contact but is that enough?

It could have easily been a hallucination.

“Robin!” Henry’s voice lifts him from his panic attack, and thank god, he’s safe.  He braces himself for a hug but Henry stops at the sight of him, looking a bit panicked and unsure.

He wonders if Henry has ever been to a hospital before.

He’s about to tell him to come here and hug him when he hears the familiar footsteps of his son.

“Daddy!” Roland shouts as he runs clumsily, carrying a big stack of colorful paper Robin assumes are gifts for him. He drops them all on the floor when he sees Robin, those sweet wide eyes filled with fear.  

“It’s okay.  I’m okay,” Robin says softly.  “I’m so glad to see both of you.”

He hears the familiar clack of heels and sees Regina hanging in the doorway.

She’s giving him his time with the boys, it seems.

“Does it hurt?” Henry asks timidly.

“Not anymore,” Robin assures.  Truthfully he’s still plenty sore, but he’s not sure he could feel anything but happiness in this moment.

Roland runs towards him, throwing his arms around his father.  “I am sorry that you got shot, Daddy!”

“Me too,” Robin whispers.  “But the good thing is we are all safe.” He looks up to Regina and smiles.  It’s too early to refer to them as this, maybe, but in another way this is what they’ve always been, whether they said the words or not.  “Our whole family is safe.”

Henry unfreezes at those words, wrapping around Robin in a tight hug.

"Thank you for saving me, Robin," Henry whispers into his chest.  "I'm glad you're my family."

It’s absurd to think of himself as _lucky_ after what they’ve all been through, but in this moment, with his two boys in his arms, and Regina’s soft eyes locking with his, it’s hard to feel anything else.

There’s a long road to recovery ahead, and it won’t be easy.  They all have scars from that nightmare of a day, scars that won’t heal quickly.  But they have one another to lean against, to confide in.

And together they can get through almost anything.  Robin is certain of that.


End file.
